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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Winnowing of tbe Winb 

B? Walter fflavius ODc Caleb 









Copyright 19 10 
By W. F. McCaleb 



C CU278441) 



2 

k 

3 



TO MARIE 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Daffodils I Knew i 

A Ship of Mine . 2 

No Day So Dark 3 

Thou Art Gone 4 

Twilight 5 

The Approach of Winter 6 

Lines 7 

Aurora 8 

My Life 9 

Sweet Be Thy Waking 10 

Amidst the Corn n 

Touchmenot 12 

Had I Wing or Lute or Tone 14 

My Prayer 15 

Alice 16 

Disillusion 17 

Yesterday 18 

Robin, I Miss Thee 19 

Can I Forget ? 20 

Lead Me On 21 

Along the River Marge 22 

I Shall Not Mind 23 

Lullaby 24 

My Star 25 

Can It Be Love ? 26 

All in My Garden-Place 27 

May 28 

I've Seen Thy Face 29 

v 



PAGE 

So Strange the Light 30 

Remembering an Ascent of Popocatepetl ... 31 

Truth 32 

Palma 33 

The Mocking Bird at Midnight 34 

Consolation 35 

Metamorphosis 36 

Shall I Not Hope? 37 

The Secret of Your Being 38 

Cor Cordium 40 

Without Thee 41 

On the Mountains Overlooking Mexico . ... 42 

Dover at Dawn 44 

If Thou Shouldst Come Not Ever Again ... 45 

Out of the Past 46 

She Never Knew 47 

Through the Vale 48 

Memories Three 50 

Adrift 51 

To Venus 52 

The Lees in an Undrained Bowl 53 

Out of the Dark and Rain 54 

She Lies Asleep 55 

De Profundis 56 

To Shelley 58 

In the After-Light 59 

Charon 60 

To Spain 61 

Sleep and Death 62 

The Ideal 63 

The Lost Caravan . 64 

Since You Have Proven False 65 

vi 



PAGE 

The Coming of Autumn 66 

Shipwreck 6 7 

Motes i' the Sun 68 

Debacle 7° 

The Days of the Summer are Dead .... 71 

Love Resurgent 7 2 

To the Dying Century 73 

Lafcadio Hearn 74 

A Vision 75 

In the Dark 7 6 



Ube BaffoMis 1T Iknew 

O bonny golden daffodils, 
I wonder if your starry eyes 
Look yet into those wondrous skies 
I knew, and if your breath yet fills 
The air that calmed my fevered youth. 

Sweet sunny daffodils, 
Though long the time is gone, in truth, 
I see you peering forth again 
With faces bared to sun and rain, 
The first of all spring's darlings, you, 
With burning kisses and the dew 

Of heaven upon your lips — to blow 
In yonder spot that onetime knew 

My steps, so oft I came to show 
My love. It cannot be that death 
Has sealed within his cell your envied breath, 
Or that he for a season stills 
The golden heart of fire that thrills 
With every zephyr note. I know, 
Rare darling daffodils, 

You only sleep to rouse 

From winter's frosty house 

With many a nod and sigh 

And twinkle of radiant eye; 
For lo, I dream of a halcyon time 
And of a loved Southland clime, 
The while I sing my votary's rime — 

O bonny, golden daffodils. 



H Sbtp of /llMne 

On yonder gray horizon's rim there stands 
A ship of mine. Long since it sailed to sea, 
One of the white and golden argosy 

That bore my hopes afar to farthest lands. 

What gallant sails, what sheets and iron bands 
To cope with storm ! Mine other ships — ah 

me! — 
And cargoes have gone down where silently 

The gull dips 'round the wrecks upon the sands. 

Is this last ship that looms so distantly 

To fade beyond the line where wave and sky 
Forget themselves in one long dream of time ? 

Is it to furl its wings ; is it to fly 

With courier speed to bring me tale of crime, 
Or treasure rare, or grief, or love sublime? 



IRo 2>as So 2>arfe 

No day so dark 

But some white gleam 
From heaven a-stream 

Will leave its mark. 



Ubou Hrt <3one 

Thou art gone from out my life's brief hour 
As ceases bird-song or the power 

Of magic or the wonder of love ! . . . 
Thou art gone. . . . And I do tread as one 
Entranced a last long beam of sun 

Athwart Hyperion's grove. 

Meseems I drift on waters dark 
Where is no wave nor any barque — 

No life, save me and Memory. 
We two, and Silence stealing near, 
Sail on to where the morning clear 

Is luminous with thee. 



Tlwfliobt 

All dun and lurid burned the dying day 
Along the blear horizon to the west, 
Shooting athwart the piled clouds' snow 
crest 

Broad golden streams to dye the world's array 
In colors passing mortal to arrest; 
And in my deepest daring heart I blest 

The hallowed hour that swooned so far away. 

And then the tender after-glow, the gloom 
And dusk born of the night stole up to hide ; 

The stars peered coldly out across the tomb 
Where lies my Love so low the storms ne'er 
chide. 

Nor ever stirs to night's sad lullaby 

The faintest chord of that soul's harmony. 



Ube Bpproacb of TKMnter 

The white hydrangea plumes that faintly lean 

Against my window fade to ghostliness ; 

And faltering winds haunt every leaf and spray 

And stir the grasses, driving summer's troop 

Of insects where their wings are folded close 

For many an hour of frost. Then, wintry sleep — 

Down in the primal caves of Death — enfolds 

In slumbrous robes each tiny soul against 

A dawn that lies far out beyond the pale 

Of dream, beyond the star-lit spheres of Time. 



Xines 

pi ec l — w hen the evening was swooning, 
And the winds were hushed at their crooning 
With the cold and the mist that were born 
Where the dusk and the darkness are torn 
Out of chaos — my Love fled away, 
Past the night— past the light— past the day ! 



Hurora 

i 

The gray light kindled the eastern wold 
And thee I saw with thy hair of gold — 

An aura of light on life's rose-river. 
Lo, I worshiped aloud in a fane of mine, 
And pledged my love in many a line — 

The love of a heart that nothing could sever. 

II 

But thou didst flee in the shimmering heat, 
And left me alone at the trysting-seat 

To come not again, no never — no never. 
So the key is lost and the string unstrung, 
And the day drops low and the song's unsung — 

The melody flown forever and ever. 



/I&S Xtfe 

My life is like a vagrant autumn shower 
That hangs on high a dark-lit dreary hour — 
Only a passing human cloud, all tears — 
Weeping a moment ere the day-star clears. 



Sweet Be Ubs TimaftfrtQ 

Darkly the night rides over the hills, 
Softly the dusk-wind cradles and stills 
Sweet be thy waking, 
When morn is a-breaking. 

Drowsily drone the tireless bees, 
Dreamily ring the harps i' the trees; — 

Sleep till thy waking, 

With never an aching. 

Lonely I lie with lids wide apart, 
Longing for thee, dear absent heart; — 
Sweet be thy waking — 
My heart is a-breaking. 



Hmi&st tbe Corn 

The roseate dew lay on the grass 
Where strayed my love, the loveliest lass 

That e'er at breaking morn 

Went singing i' the corn. 

The light of heaven lay on her hair, 
The blue within her eyes, as there 

She went a-dreaming, half love-lorn, 

Amidst the waving corn. 



XToucbmenot 

I know the daintiest flower 

That blooms in the garden plot, 

For I have wandered and wandered, 

And seen in many a fragrant spot 

A myriad of them and all a-blowing, 

Dancing, dosing, dreaming, glowing, 

Closing i' the twilight. 

But she is all to me — 

All that they are not, 

Though they call her in derision 

Just a "Touchmenot." 

Lo, the name is sweet and tender, 

Tender memory — and I love what 

They decry. What can 

The rabble know of her 

The winsome-eyed, 

Of her the deified! 

What god or demon, sprite 

Or gnome; what burst of night 

Or glimpse of day have I to thank 

That she at last — of the flower-face — 

Unfolds her charmed grace 

Like fragrant petals narcissus-sprung, 

And flings them on the wind to me, 

So that my eager, eager hands 

Might overladen be 

With all the wonders of the lands 

That lie beyond the regions of the sun. 



Touchmenot, dear heart, forget me not. 

Though all the flowers fade and pass 

Into forgetfulness — alas — 

Thy name shall linger still, 

And all my rapturous praise 

Shall be upborne to thee, 

Like incense from the golden urn 

Where all the ashes burn 

Of earth's immortal lovers. . . . 

And I too am immortal, 

Loving thee past all the limits 

Set by space and time. 

So down in the garden grow and grow; 

Spread all thy lovely leaves 

Upon the air that grieves 

Because I love thee so. 

Open thy fragrant bosom's deep 

And let me, like the bee, creep in ; 

It is so warm down in thy petalled heart 

I know that all the world will envy me, 

But not avail to draw me forth — 

I bow my head, now close me in eternally. 



* 3 



1bafc 1T miw or Xute or Zone 

Had I wing of bird or bee, 

Would I bide apart from thee? 

Had I voice of lissome glee 

How I'd tune it merrily! — 

Or vibrant lute of magic string 

How I'd thrum and as lover sing! 

Had I wing or lute or tone, 

Would I bind my lips and moan, 

Rob my restive soul of song 

That sings of thee the whole time long? 



/lfo£ prater 

To live and love and loved be — 
To work the blessed day — 

To do, to fare, to fight — be free- 
This is my prayer alway. 



15 



Hitce 

If you only knew 
The narrow nights and futile sodden days 
Since thine and mine were widened, parted ways, 

A night burst through — 

If you only knew ! 

If you only knew 
The feverish heart-beats that have hourly sent 
My purple pulse tiding to you all pent 

With love tales true — 

If you only knew ! 

If you only knew 
The longing that has raided all unseen 
The misty regions of my soul's demesne 

In search of you — 

If you only knew ! 



16 



Disillusion 

Faded the blossoms she sent; 

Lost is the fragrance that went 

Swift to my heart. . . . 

Slow beats the pulse that was pent, 
Laggard the winds are and spent; 
Voiceless — we part. 



f7 



Jl>esterfca£ 

O, the way 
To the lost yesterday 
Lies as vague and as far 
As my dead hopes are — 
All the gibbering ghosts, 
The wan beckoning hosts! 

O, the way 
To the lost yesterday 
You can find if you go 
Where the hot winds blow 
By the parched rose-tree 
Near the sun-rimmed sea. 

O, the way 
To the lost yesterday 
I have traveled in vain; 
But run ne'er again 
Be the guerdon or crown 
Or tryst of thistle-down! 

O, the way 
To the lost yesterday 
You may take if you choose 
But to take is to lose, 
For I know all the play 
On the road to yesterday. 



18 



IRobtn, 1f /llMss TTbee 

Blithe Robin, I miss thee! Sweet was thy song, 
Vibrant and shrill that ravished the hill 
Of thy summer all the day long. 

Art fled to the Southland deep in the sun, 
Trilling again with haughty disdain, 
With no mind to thy notes as they run? 

But soon thou wilt come, and, boding no fear, 
Sing for thy soul with the Spring as thy goal, 
Waking worlds with thy orison clear. 



19 



Can 1f foxQctf 

A time when sank the sun 
Into the dusk, you did forget 
My love — you did forget. 

The clouds were lowering, dun — 
The sun had set, your love had set, 
Your love for me had set. 

And when the night had run, 
The morn whispered I should forget- 
But, dear, can I forget? 



O fadeless hour that first I trembling drew 
Thee to my breast, and at thy breathing knew 
Thou lovedst me. Dear Memory, the day 
Is gone and yet 'tis here heart-held alway. 
A thousand thousand ages, Love, may pass 
And yet the light of eyes — O lovely lass — 
Rare azure eyes, shall lead me on to dare 
Dim heights the whither all true lovers fare. 

Dear, shall we not love on and on through aeons 

And aeons, and harken to the happy paeans 

And pastorals of all the spirit-clan 

Who sing together as immortals can? 

Ah, we shall see the star-dust fall and hear 

The chimes of spheres thrice seven. . . . Draw 

thou near 
Sweetheart, nor leave me for a little space; 
'T is dark beyond the pale of thy pure face. 



Hlong tbe IRtvec ZlDarae 

There were cherry blossoms all a-blowing 
By the fragrant river-side; 

A myriad eyes were glowing, 
Radiant, joyous, glorified — 
Or vaguely, sweetly mystified — 
In the dear and dusky eventide. 

O'er the greening hill the lowing 
Cattle wander home, 

While the silent slowing 

River, ever onward flowing, 

Laughs a little when there come 

Splashing feet to stay its going. . . . 

O the summer-tide is strewing 

All the world with garlands bright 
Against the coming of the Night. 



1f Sball IRot flIMnfc 

Blow, blow thou winter's wind, 

I shall not mind 
Thy ravings, hoarse and chill 
Ay tho' they be; they fill 

Me nor again with fear, 

Nor bodings drear, 
Nor melancholy's spite. 
In sooth, the balm's strange might 

And vague oblivion 

At last have done 
To death the thoughts that filled 
This soul of mine, and chilled 

For aye the pulse of life. 

Nor drum, nor fife, 
Nor air, nor voice, nor lute 
Can rouse these chords that mute 

Await some dawning day 

To thrill as they 
Were wont to do in times 
Long past, when she sang rhymes 

That breathed of love Elysian. — 

O heavenly vision! 
Blow, blow, thou winter's wind 
And moan — I shall not mind. 



23 



%ullab£ 

The mists are blown away, 
And the clouds of gray 

Are fading far in the West: — 
Sleep my Love, sleep my Love, 
Heaven looks down from above 

On thy rest. 

Tis spent the latest ray 
That marks the line of day 

Athwart the goal of the West 
Sleep my Love, sleep my Love, 
The angels are whispering above 

Thou art blest. 



24 



fll>S Star 

"All that I know of a certain star" 

That hangs in splendor where the heavens bar 
Retreating day in dazzling white, 
Leading hence the hosts of night 

To reel and fly as the hours die;. — 

"All that I know of a certain star" 

That burns like glory where the angels are, 

Is that my heart proclaims that she 

Is light of vast eternity, — 
By night, by day — a star alway. 



25 



Can 1ft Be Xove? 

I know not what lies yonder near the night, 
Trembling in the iridescent rainbow-light — 
Can it be love? 

I know not what sings by the gate of day, 
In radiant raiment — rose-crowned roundelay- 
Can it be love? 



26 



Bll in /ii>s GarfcenHPiace 

i 

On yesternight I saw uprise 

A tender bud with wistful eyes — 

By magic in my garden-place 

It grew, and lo, its blossom face ! 

How sweet and innocent, how fair, 
How honey-pure, how unaware 
Of mortal touch ; and that dear look 
All dimpled as an eddying brook. 

II 
Was it a glance, a fragrant touch, 
Or breeze that lingered over-much 
Against her cheek that wrought the blight ? 
Pale are the eyes once dark as night ! 

Why linger now, the spell is spent 
And all the glamour 's gone that lent 
Her grace and beauty none compare. . . . 
How cold doth cling the garden air. 



-7 



Oh, this mountain side is glorious, 
If you care to stray awhile, 

For the spring reigns thrice victorious- 
Flowers, flowers many a mile! 

Lo the pansy's piebald hood 

Nods and nods with many a sigh, 

For morning breathes along the wood, 
Waking every sleeping eye. 

And the daisies at my feet 

Peep with modest eyes demure, 

And startled violets, blithe and sweet, 
Round the runnel open bluer. 

Winecup bowls are crimson-red, 
Swaying high in joyous glow — 

A bumper full to winter dead, 

A toast for all the summer show. 



2% 



Tvc Seen Zftv fface 

There is no choice — 
I gaze and gaze at the eastern skies, 
Where lies the blue of thy beauteous eyes — 

I've seen thy face and heard thy voice. 

There is no choice 
But love thee, love thee, love thee true, 
And bind the sheaves as thou bid'st me do — 

I've seen thy face and heard thy voice. 



29 



So Strange tbe Xtgbt 

The eve draws down, the daylight dies. 

And over earth a stillness lies 

As on that awful day when fell 

The dark ! — Does it come again the spell 

Of blindness stealing softly through 
A noon of dream — a noon anew 
Dim-lit by eyes that once ashine 
Struck altars in this heart of mine? 

So strange the light in this day-dark, 
So thick the way I cannot mark 
My course that's set with many a trace 
And vision fair of her lost face. 



30 



1Rememberin0 an Hscent of 
Popocatepetl 

O sing to me again 

As you sang on that day — 

As you sing alway — 

O breath of the shivering pine, 

heart of the wild, wild wood — 
Strike louder the swelling refrain, 
Thunder the walls of thy white domain! 
Gray mountain so hoar and sublime — 
On whose crown rests the snow 
Fallen like a mask long ago, — 

Fallen low, fallen low, 
From heaven's gray dome — 
Flash but again to mine eye; 
Bend all thy blue, burnished sky, 
And I were young as the day 

1 clambered scarce breathing and cold 
Thy deep forest side and thy helmet of snow ! 
O mortal, or angel, or both, 

Or who hath my soul in charge, 

Hear! once again ere I go 

Swift through the valley of death, 

Let the high-sweeping wind 

Blow its frost-crystaled breath 

O'er the cataract-fountain 

Through the pines on the mountain, 

And sing to my soul as it sang to me then — 

As it sang to me then. 



31 



Urutb 

Thy voice to me is dear as spirit songs 
Of angels playing at the dawn in throngs 
Along the eastern battlemented height 
Of Joy, where only thou dost reign with light. 

Thy face to me a heaven is of stars 
In field celestial, whence the bars 
Of life are dropped for one to see 
That heaven is truth and truth eternity. 



32 



lPalma 

And Palma chose him for her minstrel, 
. . . Sordello, whom 
Anon they laid within that old font-tomb. 

— Browning 

Maid, thou with eyes mysterious and dark 
With blue, and brow like Pieta's, and locks 
No child of Lombardy's could vie — list: Rocks 
Not still that mazy wood its branches? — hark, 
Doth not its whisper thrill old Goito stark 
And hoar ? No more the orpine patch ? No docks 
I' the familiar fields? What is it mocks 
Thee bending o'er that font-tomb's silent mark? 

He rests, for Heaven's balm doth soothe his soul. 

And thou? — ah, thou with eyes all stained 
and hair 
Unbound dost come at even's mournful toll 

To weep beside the martyred maids that bare 
Their hearts in marble penance — to weep for him 
Who loved that spot a-stir with spirits dim. 



33 



Ube /ifcocMnabfrfc at /iDt^niabt 

Yester I heard a voice at the night-deep hour- 

A note that rose upon the stifling tide 

Of heat, and windless, nigh the moon 

Till falling earthward in a swoon 

Of ecstasy and sweet delirium, 

It trembled in the tree-top's canopy, 

A moment clung, then faded utterly. 



34 



Consolation 

To wake and see th' undimming dawn 
And hear the lute of light 

In triumph at the daemons gone 
Adrift upon the night — 

To lure myself with languid verse 
The lanes of life among; 

To lift myself beyond the curse 
On the wide wings of song! 



35 



/i&etamorpbosts 

I feel the first faint breath of Autumn, dear; 
Slow steals it o'er the hills, across the vale 
And on and on, voicing its tongueless tale 

Of pathos strange and wild. With naught of 
fear 

The flowers lift their darling heads to cheer 
All mindless of the forest's weary wail 
That eddies round. . . . Why art so sad and 
pale? 

Awake, for lo the winter-night is near. 

And thou shalt dream. But when thine eyes 
again 
Ope wide to day, the glamour's gone — and 
they 
Shall glance a metamorphosed world; the rain 
Has sullied, the wind has frayed the petals 
gay 
And moans among the littered leaves that fly 
Distraught to lie where you and I must lie. 



36 



Sbail 1T mot 1bope? 

Above the shivering trees in yonder grove 
The snow is whirling dumb in its dismay; 
Beyond the flying clouds of freezing gray 

The waves are wailing loud along the cove ; 

And round thy heart the dismal day hath wove 
A night where fearful phantasies delay 
The words I wait impatient but alway. — 

Shall I not hope that truly thou wilt love? 

Some morn the dawn will drowse the eastern 
wold, 
And sunny life go bounding free again; 
White, whitening buds will burst and bur- 
geoning spring 
Blow every spray: — ah, then I'll know the gold 
At thy heart's core has run, and that the 

reign 
Of kings on earth is at its welcoming. 



37 



Uhc Secret of H)our Being 

He said that you were mortal, that your soul was 

of the dust, 
That the radiance of your beauty was a thing 

that would outrust; 

And I rose in earnest anger and I cursed the 

falsifier, 
While I stammered half-unknowing that there 

lies a region higher. . . . 

Do you blame me for my temper, I who love 

you, love you so, 
For I know you are of heaven; — do you ask 

me how I know? 

It is futile to upbraid me ; not a word I'll answer 

you — 
Lo, the secret of your being burns beyond the 

nether blue. 

They whisper I am dreaming, that a phantasy of 

mind 
Mocks the inner-seeing Vision, that I grope 

about as blind. 

But I know the you I'm loving lives beyond all 

human ken, 
That the hands I now am holding will reach 

back to earth again. 

38 



If you go before me, Mary, you will surely not 

forget ; 
So I'll let them laugh and mock me — I shall bide 

with no regret. 

Let them whisper I am dreaming ; let me dream, 

for I would rest; 
Take my hands and hold them closer — see, the 

sun is in the west. 



39 



Cor CorMum 

So there my letters all in ashes lie 
Awaiting some gray gust of time to fly 
Some whither, then to rise not ever again. . . . 
The gods forgive; you never knew the pain 
Nor dared to think what never-ending crimes 
You wrought when danced the flames through 

all my rhymes 
That raced with the best blood of one that 

loved — 
Whose every sun-lit word and action proved 
A steadfast love ! . . . Far as the east and west 
Upfly the ashes of my heart — the test 
Of fire has burned into the very core 
Of one who dreams, of one who weeps, no more. 



40 



TKflttbout XTbee 

Art gone in truth, or does my mind 
Belie, or am I come too blind 
With gazing at thee as the sun? 
Thy image 'twas that waked my song 
That urged me all the days along — 
Dear days of dreams how shortly done ! 

Without thee how can I live on, 
How do, how dare, the spirit gone 
To come not any morning more? 
My life will cease like a dull spark 
And all the quick resolving dark 
Reclaim my heart burned to the core. 



41 



©n tbe /l&ountatns ©\>erloofeing ZlDexico 

Tonight I see the moonlight on thy mountains, 

Mexico, 
And the grayish mists thy marshes breathe, 

Mists that sweep moist-winged 
The dimming heights cast up to guard thee 
When all the nights were still 
And no man wept. 

Cast up in a moment? 
Ah, who knows or cares for that? 

To him who wandered round 
The ridged rim that skirts thy valley, 

When yet the day was new, 
What meaning spake these awful sentinels ? . . . 
Methinks he knew in that far time of woe, 
And plague, and blind enduring evil, 
Mexico. 

Far down I see thy fading lights 

Melt in a pale unearthly glow ; 

And know the pulse of thy great heart 
Throbs faster, faster, 

Mexico. 
And in thy widening veins 
What scarlet-stained blood 
Of poisoned generations ! . . . 

Lo! the moonlight's on thy crest, 
And the night's fold drops all 
Snugly round thee; 
42 



And the silent, ceaseless flow 

Of drowsing time fills up thy cup — 

O Mexico — 
And mine. — Thou dost not murmur, yet 
This saddened heart of mine bemoans, 
I know not why, . . . but rest thou now 
And I would dream — alas, in vain. 



43 



Wovcx at Dawn 

Hail mighty Albion's cliff of massy white, 

And Dover drowsing lifeless at thy feet! 

Full many centuries has England's seat 
Been sentineled by thee: upon thy height 
The fires of hope, alarm, — by day, by night — 

Have burned their beacons : — lo ! the Con- 
queror's fleet; 

Or woe the proud Armada's thousand sheet, 
Or list, Napoleon's thundering guns affright ! 

Adieu, pale cliff — the morn advances high — 
Thou awe-inspiring guardian 'gainst all foes ! 
Were England steadfast, true, as thou, the 
world 
Would fail ere spoilsmen sprang with martial 
cry 
To seize the land — would pass with all its 

shows 
To nothingness, thy glorious banner furled. 



44 



•fff Uhoxx Sboulfcst Come IRot Ever 
Hgatn 

I call to thee across the wilds that pen 

Thee in — this city- jungle rent of men — 

In vain I call in spirit-tones apace, 

But comes no answer hence from out the space; 

Only sounds the din of clanging cars, 
Or drumming hoof on pavement; even the stars 
Are gone : no thing doth heed my words too rife 
With love's lorn messages, too red of life. 

If thou shouldst come not ever again to me 

To bid me live, the sacred walls to thee 

Shall breathe my love — then break no silence 

more. . . . 
How void the world since thou hast passed my 

door. 



45 



@ut of tbe past 

Lo we talked of golden themes 
'Neath the starlight's silken gleams, 
Drifting where the many streams 

Of life unite: 
And the river to the sea, 
Murmured low to Love and me: 
"Love thy love, life's swift of flight." 

Softly flew the mindless hours, 
Fools we left Love's luring bowers, 
Passed unplucked the fragrant flowers 

Upon the shore. 
So the gift divine was lost — 
Youth and love ! . . . All demon-crossed 
Seas surge round us evermore. 



46 



Sbe fttever IKnew 

count it not to her ; — she never knew 

My day-star rose and set within her eyes: 
Nor ever dreamed my soul in voiceless cries 
Pined for her love. And yet the long year 
through 

1 saw her — fair as a wondrous rose that grew 
Serene in the sweet wood, kissed by the dew, 

Swayed by the wind, touched by the flame 

that lies 
Along the dawn — radiant under the skies. 

Anon the winter came to frost my flower 
Fresh chapleted with love. Portentous hour ! 

How drear and desolate are all the days 
Since she sleeps yonder where the dark clouds 
lower 
To lace their light'nings with the sun's last 

rays, 
And where my heart is lost in life's thick 
haze. 



47 



Ubrougb tbe Dale 

FIRST VOICE 

Lament not he died, 

Child of thy heart; woe betide 

If thou mourn'st as the winds 

Through an arch which the ivy upbinds. 

SECOND VOICE 

Am I a bride or a sprite? 
Do I dream, do I hear 
With the heart over-near, 
Do you speak me outright? 

FIRST VOICE 

Forget thou hast cried 
Where the frail poppies blow all purple- 
eyed 
O'er his grave 
Where the lilacs wave. 

SECOND VOICE 

As a bride 

Of the realm of the flowers 
I shall bide 

And my guardian Hours 
For dear love shall stay near 
For my sake and for his, and the clear 
Blue of sky shall bluer be still 
And all of the Shadows shall linger at will 
To answer the dream 
When it breaks at the Gleam. . . . 
4 8 



FIRST VOICE 

What's the worth of a tear 
Or the leaf of a year 
That is spent? 

SECOND VOICE 

Nay the worth of a tear 

That is spent 
Or the leaf of a year 

That is sent 
On the wind to the west 
Is as gold from the test 

Of the fire. 

I aspire 
To mount upward and on 
Until our souls in the dawn 
Shall unite and remember how fair 
Was our vale over there. 
Let me weep 

For my soul from the deep 
Presses on for the leap 
Past the barrier steep 
Where the stars dark the Space 
That is lit by the light of His face. 



49 



/l&emories XTbree 

A silver silver moon, 
Across the dome a cloud that clears apace, 
And all the midnight filled with starry grace. 

A rose asleep at noon, 
Wind-worried, drooping for a drowsy space, 
And on the grass the fragrant petal's trace. 

And One that went too soon, 
All fain of life's lost, headlong, heedless race — 
Abides with me the memory of a face. 



5<> 



Bfcrift 

Ah, love is wrecked and gone adrift — 

I see upon the torturing lift 

Of fitful, false, unmindful ocean 

Golden braids swim slow in motion, 

Swept athwart the spirit-grace 

Of eyes and cheeks and lips . . . dear 

face. . . . 
Wan eyes that move no more the stars 
To lend their lusters for the wars 
Of love; fair cheeks that blanched the rose; 
Sweet lips that now so mute upclose 
Forsaken of the lyric joy; and hair 
Of gold, so golden with the snare 
Of life! ... I lean upon the land 
And trace a name deep in the sand. 



Uo IDenus 

Venus, slow descending, 
In thy flight I read a page 

As wide as time's unending; 

The doom of things in every age 
Is blazoned in thy starry light. 
Oh, to be quite 

Like such a glory-spot — 
To sink in utter radiance 

Like a dazzling blot 

In night's deep robe, to dance 
From one dark aeon to another — 
Venus, to be as thou, eternal mother! 



52 



ZTbe Xees in an Xllnfcrainefc Bowl 

O a minor chord 's astir in my heart — 

Love lost, love lost — 
Sings ever of her with a poignant start. 

Tis the theme of an hour that once unrolled- 

Love crossed, love crossed — 
Sings on and on through the ages old. 

And a song of sin 't will sound in my soul — 

Storm tossed, storm tossed — 
Because of the lees in an undrained bowl. 



53 



©ut of tbe Dark an£> 1Rain 

Come, sing to me as you were wont to do 
. A time agone, agone — so long ago. 
Ah, I remember well the hour as though 

'Twere yesterday, a tuneful angel, you 

Did steal into my heart to soothe, as dew 

A parched blossom's yearning stills — I know 
Tis many a silent hour, yet sing, e'en now, 

The lines I'm longing so to hear a-new. 

Sweetheart, I meant not that sad-toned refrain — 
Nay, sing again the words forever dear 
As thou ! For too much alway I am prone 

To linger lone and lorn against the pane, 
Striving out of the dark and rain to hear 
The note of hope I knew — so long unknown. 



54 



Sbe Xtes H5leep 

Wake ! but strike thy lute no more, 
For on the farthest Eden shore 

She lies asleep. 

So wake and weep, 
But strike thy singing lute no more. 

Calm, she sleeps as one bereft 

Of sorrows treasured from the theft 

Of robber time. 

See how sublime 
She rests, of sorrows all bereft. 

Peace, nor stay the stirring tear 
Beside her lorn and lonely bier; 

She soon will pass 

To dust — alas ! . . . 
What can avail a burning tear? 

Wake, but strike thy lute no more, 
For on the farthest Eden shore 

She lies asleep. 

So wake and weep, 
But strike thy singing lute no more. 



55 



Be profunbis 

O let me sleep 

Who ne'er again can weep. 

All throttling are the pains that leap 

The chasms of my heart, 

Whence scurrying hordes upstart, 

The brandishing dervish-thoughts, with 

dart 
And sword, and rumble of distant 

thunder ! 
What once was whole — 

this my soul — 

Is shattered, torn asunder, 

And all my dreams are buried under. 

Still, in its sacred place 

1 grope to find the trace 
Of a once-loved face. 
All else has gone awrack 
On this my life's white track 
Of washing sand seashore, 
Where run the eddies evermore 
And running ever croon 

A sibyl-sounding rune 

Of one I still adore, 

Of one all faithless as the moon. 

O let me sleep, 
Ye keepers of the deep, 
And dream awhile — warm-housed 
By Silences — with lips all mute 
56 



That once were roused 

To riot by the blameless fire 

Of Love! Consumed by heart's desire, 

'Twas I who dreamed that higher 

And higher we two should mount 

And call the very stars to make account 

Of Love's Elysian goal, 

Where sound the chants of soul to soul. 

O let me sleep 
Ye angels of the steep 
Incline of heaven, who never grieve, 
Nor grieving ne'er can tell 
When one doth languish in the lairs of 
hell! 



57 



Uo Sbellep 

Master of destiny, sun-girdler — thou 

Soarer beyond the last confine of space — 
Singer sublime : O pray thee deign, fair face, 
To look upon me but a moment now, 
For I would joyfully lay on thy brow 

The lyric's laurel wreath. In thy sweet grace, 
Immortal lover, let me find a place; 
For I, one of the humblest, come to bow 
Before thy sacred shrine where kneel the wise 
And brave and true. Thou wert so kind and 
just, 
With heaven, love, truth mirrored in thine eyes, 
Thou wilt not scorn — here will I wholly trust 
Till the pale Shadow steal with silent pall 
To stay my strivings and my anxious call. 



58 



Hn the Hfter*Xi0bt 

I know not how drag past the days, 
So loveless, lonely, are the ways 
I tread since She is fled my sight. 

But know I well the laggard feet 

That lead to where our paths shall meet 

Far out in some great afterlight. . . . 



59 



Cbaron 

O Charon, Charon! warder of that stream 
As dark as death, thy blear and sateless eye 
Gloats on the scene where soul on soul lies by, 
Awaiting thee to ferry them. I deem 
Thee one of bravest arm, yet one whose dream 
Must be a nightmare where the dead do fly 
In tattered shrouds, and call thee names and 
cry 
For Erebus to show them where the gleam 
Of suns unspoken lights the hills that rise 

In that drear land where Styx forever rolls. 
O Charon ! when my soul comes down and lies 
With thee afloat, hush thou the bell that tolls 
The muffled passing — let me rest and sleep 
Through mists and cold and deathless night's 
long keep. 



60 



Uo Spain 

Great land where breathed Iberian and Moor — 
That gave us lore and lost philosophies, 
And breed of men that bent on high emprise 
Woke wide the Western World — what swift 

allure 
Drew thee apart? — what holy zeal impure 

Belied thy soul and glozed with gloom thine 

eyes 
To blind the way thy sons were wont to 
prize ? — 
Canst tell why hast in all become so poor? 

Uprise ye ghosts of banished Saracen 
And Jew, marshal thy martyrs, Bolivar, 
And Cuba thine — these hiss the dolorous 
word: 
America nor knows nor shall again 

The flag that flouted the rights of men, that 

heard 
No peal of liberty blown from afar ! 



61 



Sleep an£> 5>eatb 

A longed-for silence still as primal death was 
mine. 
Asleep in some fair-flowered, starry cave — 
Free from the toils, the drag-nets and the brine 

Of tears and life's red-bruised grape (I crave 
No more), I dreamed, and all was peace; nor 
scorn, 
Nor contumely, the jagged lash which fate 
Had wielded ; silence, sleep were mine ; no morn 
Would rouse me from my dear and dreamful 
state. 

Alack, a time I did awake and found 

My prison cold and damp; and Death beside 
Me pressed my lids so close I cried aloud 

In bitterness for swift reprieve! Fast bound 
My limbs refused to stir. — Said Death : 

"Abide 
Awhile with me and Silence marble-browed." 



62 



Ube Hfceai 

I dreamed awhile and wrought the gossamers 
In filmy fabrics fit for her the one 
That rose for me the transcendental sun. 

She rose for me the very sun to lead 

The utmost way, to wake the world of night 

Wherein I groped ere blazed the sudden Light- 

The light that shines adown the drifting path 
That lies across the distant earth away — 
Wherein I walk and wait against a day. 



63 



ZTbe<*Xost Caravan 

It was a wild and wide expanse of sand — 

Bare, blazing sand; far-stretching, farther 

than 
The eye of mortal reacheth, or e'er can, 
It lay a dismal waste. A ghastly band 
Went straggling on : each with his withered hand 
Shut out the flaming day as on they ran 
In vain a lost mirage. Accursed ban 
To scorch beneath a sun where deserts, fanned 
By black simoon, rise high in air to blot 

The heavens out! With tongues distended, 
blank, 
Brown faces — earth and air and sky are not. 

Oblivion, dark as that by Lethe's bank, 
Now spreads apace ; for lo the last is spent, 
And lies where howl the winds a hoarse lament. 



64 



Since !2ou 1bav>e proven jfalse 

There is so little left 

Since you have proven false, 

I seem of all bereft. 

Of all bereft am I 
Since all I had I gave, 
My heart, which there doth lie- 
There mid the rose leaves crushed 
(The flowers I'd wrought for you) 
The songs forever hushed. 



65 



Ube Comtna of Hutumn 

Shrilly the cricket close in the grass 

Shivers that summer is dead; 
Wearily race the fallen leaf-throngs, 

Rustling that summer is fled ; 
Sad is the hum of the hurrying bee 

Gleaning the floweret shed; 
Faint is the note of the curlew's call 

Far in the dome overhead ; — 
The sun in the west capped over with cloud 

Shatters the sky with its red; 
The winds in the trees whisper woe, whis- 
per woe — 

And Echo is all trembling with dread. 



66 



Sbipwrecft 

Low surged the madding waves an eve, and fast 
The dusk and murky gloom closed in the day ; 
Dull, desolately, broke the chilling spray 

Along the deck ! The mists uprose, the blast 

Drave loud against the singing cords and mast 
A-quiver ; while above the dread dismay 
The demons roared and tore the sails away — 

White sails that once to wooing winds were 
cast. 

The night's black pall hung on th' remorseless 
air 
That swept the writhing sea, that whipped 
with cold 
The whitened whitecaps and the floating hair 

Of one too glorious for a story told, 
Of one whose fame a pearl endures for me, 
Who search in vain for her the shoreless sea. 



67 



/iDotes V tbe Sun 

O the dreams that we dream 
Are like motes in a gleam, 
A bare burnished beam 

O' the sun. 
(Motes i' the sun 
That glimmer and run 
Twixt the light 
And the night.) 

Twixt the light and the night, 
Lo the shadow, the might 
And the hastening flight 

To the sun! 
(Motes i' the sun 
That glimmer and run 
Twixt the light 
And the night.) 

Still we dream as we creep 
Through the cavernous deep 
Ere we take the long leap 

'Neath the sun. 
(Motes i' the sun 
That glimmer and run 
Twixt the light 
And the night.) 
68 



We 're but dreams of a day, 
Then we pass like the spray 
On the wind — haste away 

Ere the sun. 
(Motes i' the sun 
That glimmer and run 
Twixt the light 
And the night.) 



69 



debacle 

This dark is so intense, the starless void 
So aching black, the world so unannoyed 
Of winds or any sound save the slow drip 
Of my heart's blood far on the outer rip 
Where runs my life's low tide in silence deep ! — ■ 
I long to lose me in abysmal sleep. 

Thy hand 'twas crushed the sun and smote the 

stars 
From space ; thy voice that raised th' iEolian bars 
Against the winds, that set the Echoes all 
A-rout; thy perfidy that reared the pall 
Where lies my heart entombed to rouse no more 
Until the dawn dart through the golden door. 



70 



XTbe Da^s of tbe Summer are H>eafc 

There's a ring in the air of the Autumn, child, 
For the days of the summer are dead ; 
And lo ! at thy feet and high o'er thy head 
Are the flying red hosts of the wilderness wild — 
The sighing dead ghosts of the wilderness, child. 
And the song that is sung is a requiem mass, 
For low, low down in the darkening grass 
Are the daisies and buttercups sleeping — alas ! — 
All breathless and silent. How golden the dawn 
When their spirits shall rouse along the dim lawn 
Of some dreamful Arcadian summer! Child, 
There's a ring in the air of the Autumn wild. 



71 



%ovc IResuraent 

I 

What is it that rouses the sleeping flower souls, 
And plants them aflame 'round the valleys and 
knolls, 

When the moist winds do blow? 

What is it that wakens the cardinal's chant 
And sets all the wilderness songsters apant — 
Is it spring with its show? 

The robin that late warmed his crest in the sun — 
Has he heard a far call and his journey begun 
With no thought of the snow? 

II 

To the slumbering seed-souls Love calleth aloud 
And they burst all ablaze their clay-sealing 
shroud — 

'Tis the end of their woe. 

Love in the heart strings a harp in the throat! 
It tunes every line to an untutored note — 
O I know — O I know! 

As far as may be this world from the stars 
I can hear her soft voice and no tyranny bars, 
For I go — lo I go. 



72 



TEo tbe H>sin0 Century 

Morning found thee, mother, crying 
'Midst the crumbled ruin of thrones 
And shattered chains and bleaching bones 
That gave us Liberty. 

Dusk-tide now, and thou art dying 
Broken-hearted at the boom 
Of guns that groan a sullen doom 
To dreams of Liberty. 



73 



OLafcaMo Ibearn 

Strange wilding from thy native hearthstone fled 

Adream toward the opal orient sun 

To keep a tryst with Faith and Beauty — Love : 

Hast fared with all thy glory-garlands trove 

Across th' Pacific sea Nirvana-ward; 

Lo, art with Buddha's sainted soulful dead! 



74 



H Msfon 

From the highest ebon peak of night, 
Brighter than the star-dust's prismed light, 

Burning through the intervening gloom 
A single face of glory fills mine eyes 

With radiance like to that when the last doom 
Shall echo round the stricken, silent skies. 



75 



1Fn tbe^Barfe 

It is so dreary playing in the dark, 
With only little lamps of hope to light 
The mazes of the way. 

I am so weary staying in the dark, 
The flicker of the slender candles quite 
Obliterates the day. . . . 

I wait for Mary, straying in the dark, 
And shall until the gods in full requite 
And put the lamps away. 



76 



DEC 22 1910 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



19ih 




■ili*, 

015 909 1 ^JLJ| 









■it 



